Our so not solvable dilemma
by Fireleaf9
Summary: Something happens to JD and he's not so happy about it, quite not. suicidal themes, JDA, slash, non graphic JD/Cox smex.


**Hello again! :D Had a fight with my english teacher 2 weeks ago, i wrote down like 3 lines and then i build up all of this i'm giving you now! First time JDA, i guess, first time 2nd Person POV, JD of course. I might let it stay a one-shot, or, since i'm working on it, i could make it a two-shot or maybe even more! Who knows, you decide :D **

**A/N: Bit of JDA, suicidal themes (only in this chapter if i continue the story) and some good old JD/Cox Slash. It is, again, unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are mine and mine only, feel free to comment if you notice i've written something wrong**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters i'm writing about, Scrubs belongs to Bill Lawrence.  
Also, i do not own Shakespeare's "Hamlet", i just quote it.**

Chapter I: Love, Fear, Sadness

_Is it worth giving your whole self to the one you think you love?_

_Is it worth making your eyes rain upon your face when you feel like staying alone?_

As teardrops fall, you don't actually know. _Love, fear, sadness._

Mere thoughts, to the serene ones. But, are you one of them?

You think you are, because even though your patients die, even though your past influenced you, even if your dad is not alive anymore, even if Dr. Cox mocks you, you still love your job, you love your present, you've carried on and you still have those puppy dog eyes on him, following him everywhere and whenever he needs you.

_It's just like a drug, not that you've ever tried one, but every time you keep on coming back for more._

Maybe because your love is just too damn strong, maybe because you always hope that you'll become his friend, or that he actually admits you are. And so, you don't care about how bad your day is, as long as you can see his smiling face, the rare moments when he's not exhibiting his usual big bad guy mask, as long as you can see his sculpted body, but you always tell yourself you only watch it for your envy of it, whilst you know you want to ravage it, to sense it, to tie it together with your being.

Of course, you know he does care about you, even if he doesn't really show you like you expect, but you know he does when he gives you tips for your job, tips he doesn't give to other interns, when he knows you're too tired to work and let you go home earlier; mocking itself is a way to show that his endearment, but he will constantly come back to his usual self, the selfish narcissist he is. Throughout the years, your relationship has mutated, and you've noticed his sneaky glances, his casual touches, his selection of girl names: _Valentine, Felicity, Christine. _And you can't understand why he's acting like this.

...Until you find out.

* * *

One day, a particularly sad one, you see him pining your form into a supply closet, blaming about how you are twofold, how you are so annoying yet still so much a tease. And you're shocked, but not because he's just proved your point, but you can hear his voice differently. He sounds endearing, not harsh, not mean, but longing,caring, desiring. And you can't even react, until he kisses you roughly, harshly, angrily yet too damn fondly.

You don't know why he pulled back, but apparently you do know, because you can see his confusion on his face, implied questions. He wasn't prepared for a reciprocated feeling. You set yourself up, trying shyly to hold him. You wanted to bring him peace, calm, but as soon as you try to do, he pulled away and ran.

The following days were so awkward to explain, you don't walk along the hospital without watching your back. You're not really frightened, but you don't know how to react if Dr. Cox walks along your road. You haven't spoken to anyone since you kissed, not one of your friends have noticed either, about which you're very grateful. Weeks passed, moths, but Dr. Cox has always been the same you used to know, he was his usual self...

..._until he wasn't again, and again, and again._

And yet another kiss, though more passionate and possessive, and yet another hasted retreat, or that was what he intended to do. You're already sick of the situation, so you step beside the door, locking it, facing him. You want to talk, but you were too lost in those baby blues, so you take him and kiss him senseless, asking with your body for more, a lot more. He doesn't retreat, he was so involved he deepened the kiss while lifting you up onto the wall so you could crawl your legs, entwining them behind his back. Shouted growls, moans and sharp cries were made that day, from both of you.

You don't really care about people. _If they wanted to hear, please do_, you thought. You were so on cloud nine you wanted to stop time that right moment, so that sensation could be endless. You don't know what pushed him to act like that, maybe his caring, maybe a releasing desire, maybe the hot wonderful sex you made, you liked to think.

But after all, he would come back to his usual self, to his usual show, and as that sort of relationship continued, you still couldn't understand why. Sadness, Love and Fear embraced you. You lost the initial spark, because you're actually fed up, you need to know what was going on between them, to know why he was behaving like that. You knew yourself though, so you just avoid the argument, getting sicker and sicker everyday.

Right to the moment when you get it through...no, scratch that, you're not getting through this. But you're aware of your limits and he's pushed them by far. So, one of the now so not rare moments of your "pause", you gather your forces and push him away. He doesn't understand and tries to kiss you again but you turn your face so he was kissing your cheek instead. He's watching you angrily, trying to analyze the situation, but apparently he doesn't want to, and now he's going out of the supply closet. You're left there, as if you did something right, something you needed to do, but you know you didn't, you're even sadder now.

* * *

He's avoiding you now, and he's not coming back, you know it. Probably you were right when you thought that kept him sane, and he might truly care about you. Although you were so fallen for him, your relationship was wrong in so many ways you can't even tell and you wonder what would have happened if you both came out of the closet, either by your choice or 'cause of an accident, after all, your "encounters" became so frequent you know someone would have come into you, and what would have happened afterward? You didn't want to cause troubles either to you and Dr. Cox, you feel like it's better to start like usual JD again, even though you're not that person anymore, or maybe you are, but you're just covered by your pain.

You faked illness, you couldn't tell Kelso you wanted to stay home because you were brokenhearted, nevertheless you actually were ill emotively. The sight of Dr. Cox was really painful. Maybe that's why you're subtly cursing yourself. Ironically, he's standing outside of your door knocking. _What should I do?_ You wondered. You may open the door, and God knows what is going to happen then, or leave it closed and being such a girl, after all, you called out sick. You have to open that door then, what you see after, it's totally awkward and strange.

He's holding a box, probably containing, wait, it actually contains Chinese takeout, _he brought you Chinese takeout._ It was so romantic yet so disturbing, you know what he wants . However, you don't care, you can't put down someone when you want the same thing. Damn if he's strange now, you're both laying in the bed (what happened after you ate was expected from both of you), and you genuinely don't know why he's crawling in it to reach your form, putting his arms over your shoulders, drawing circles on your back with his fingers.

You're blocked, whether he's implying you can touch him as well or if he needs it , as if he was missing your shape, your tender skin, your hair. You really can't resist his touch, caring yet possessive, so you put your hands on his, entwining them. You stayed in bed for hours, doing more or less the same thing you did before falling asleep. You fell after him so you could study his sleepy face, and you saw he was trying to convey a slight smile, of course, failing. As soon as he wakes up though, he storms out of your flat.

You can't come up with an acceptable reason for his flee. That's where you are, alone, sad, depressed to the limit. You can't stand it anymore, you care about nothing right now, not even about yourself and your health. Your limit was pushed, you don't mind anything else, you might just fall, breaking something, and not caring about it. Maybe that's why you're now in your bathroom, locking the door and taking out a supply box where you had drugs. Your mind is overloaded, your body moves without reason. You start taking as much pills as you can stand, one after the other, without stopping.

"_**To be, or not to be: that is the question:**_

_**Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer **_

_**The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,**_

_**Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,**_

_**And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;  
No more..."**_

And then, your inner light fade out, and your eyes embrace the darkness.


End file.
